


Figments of Imagination

by Positive22



Category: random - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-06 06:26:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13405368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Positive22/pseuds/Positive22
Summary: Uh, something that I thought of last year.





	Figments of Imagination

The child was dreaming. His mother had already kissed him goodnight. But what he didn’t know was that in his sleep, something slept with him. Invisible to the human eye, shadows are darker than they seem. They were curled around the boy’s body, the darkness made them seem bigger. The slight shape of a bat wing had formed over the boy’s small forehead, black claws twitched above the pillow. The boy shifted in his sleep, rolling over. The shadow moved with him, as is the nature of shadows. Around the boy’s head, across the pillow and touching the bedposts, was a larger shadow. This one started from the boy’s nose to the tips of his toes. It curled around his forehead and around to his back. It was snuggled between his body and the frost of the night air. The sound of a small bell disturbed the night whispers; the pads of a cat’s soft paws pattered across the carpet. The darkness seemed to shift across the boy’s bed and rise.

The cat had cast its own shadows. From the lamp in the hallway, the moon behind the window, shadows spread like great wings beneath the feline’s feet. It turned its luminescent gold eyes to the looming darkness upon its human’s form. The cat stood still, perhaps not paralyzed, just not daring to move, staring. And the darkness stared back. Ghostly pools of faint white fog had materialized into the shadow’s surface. The cat’s back arched and it hissed at the darkness. Upon its own back, flickers of darkness emerged from between the strands of fur and floated in the dark air. The walls flicked with strange shapes of small bats. The cat took a hesitant step backwards; the shadow tilted its head. The cat turned its tail to the shadow creature and padded out of the room. The cat walked down the hallway and to the back door where it slipped out of a small cat door in the sliding glass. Between its ears was a smaller shadow. Its small head was nestled on the cat’s forehead, the nose was pointed and so were its two ear-like horns. Its ghostly white eyes were open and staring down at the cat’s pink nose. Voices became prominent as the cat jumped upon the fence. From the houses across the fence:

“Look, it doesn’t have to be this way-”

“No! You aren’t going to continue treating me this way! I have my ways and you have yours, we’re through!”

“Would both of you shut up and take this argument out of my house?”

“Mom, we’re trying to settle something, butt out.”

“Excuse me young lady, I am your mother and I own this property, I can kick your lazy ass out of this house whenever I please.”

“Listen to her, I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”

The cat slipped over the fence into an open street. Loud cars screeched past the row of houses, and beyond the streets that the cat called home, to places far beyond the horizon. The clouds had begun to part letting the sun melt them into blue sky. Yet even that was a dull gray. The cat walked down the street, the shadow on its head blinked its milky white eyes and looked towards the opening to a place filled with shadow. It let go of the cat’s fur and flapped a pair of tiny wings somehow molded onto its shoulders. It fluttered down into the opening and drifted down the long shaft of stone. The air was colder, but temperature does not affect shadows very much. The little shadow found itself in a large cavern and hovered for a few moments. It was a tunnel. The tunnel was lit by weak flickering lamps, and the floor was split by a river of muddy water. The little shadow took off forward, down the tunnel. More voices. More hatred:

“Ah, sorry I couldn’t get a job. No dinner tonight.”

“Oh, that’s okay, you did your best.”

“Hell no he didn’t.”

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that we’re all struggling here.”

“Yeah, but we could be struggling less if this lazy sh!^h#@d wasn’t so useless!”

“Woah, Brian, calm down we all make mistakes sometimes!”

“Fine! If you wimps won’t solve our problems, then I will! I’ll KILL him!”

The tunnel became dark, and darker, yet darker. Yet not. The humans wandered the edges of the tunnels, able to see clear as day, even though the shadows were everywhere. They hung off the ceiling, they hid the floor in a carpet of black. Between each and every one of the carefully placed bricks along the sewer wall. The shadows floated in the air, between the folds in the tattered clothing upon the human’s backs. The shadows clung to the humans’ physique, anywhere, just to stay with a host. Suddenly light flooded the tunnel. The shadows fled to hide behind the humans, making their backs blacker than night itself. The light had come from the open vent in the ceiling, one by one, more and more vents spilled over with sunlight. The humans merely cringed at the sudden brightness and continued on. The shadows lifted their small heads, white eyes in multitude blinking and staring at the sunlight. One by one, they spread films of black shadow and flew towards the light. They burst out of the sewer grates, street gutters, storm drains and cracks in the streets. They soared upwards. Some found the strength to fly all the way up to the clouds and to an unknown world beyond.

Others were not so strong. The light was too harsh to fly against. The shadows fell back to earth and fled into the few scraps of darkness the daylight left behind. And yet, they did not stop coming. More and more shadows approached as people, animals, machines, leaves, birds, and clouds crossed the sun, daring to darken its domain.

A man carrying a briefcase walked past a cafe, the lights were off, the shadows were more in number there. The man paused and stared through the window. Then he shook his head and continued walking, laughing to himself, “I thought I saw something in that window, but it must have been a figment of my imagination!”

A shadow peeked through the window, it’s white eyes stared at the man walking by and blinked once. A Figment. That is what it is called: a Figment.

A group of girls wearing miniskirts and several pounds of makeup strode up to the cafe and dropped into the benches outside. They began talking to each other. Their shadows were long and dark in the morning light. Words exchanged lips; words of spite, jealousy, and arrogance:

“Ugh, Kelly thought she’s so much better than me. Glad she’s gone.”

“Yeah, she kept on trying to talk us down, what a bitch!”

“Did you hear she was even trying to hit on the football captain?”

“No way!”

“I know right? He’s way out of her league. Besides, you saw him making eyes at Veronica.”

“Yeah! They go so well together!”

Shadows had appeared around them. Figments of spite, hatred, jealousy, lust, and arrogance. Beside them, a shadow slipped into the sunlight, it crept on all fours, inspecting the ground between its claws. A human was walking down the sidewalk. The human didn’t even stop as his foot crashed down upon the small shred of shadow. It squeaked pitifully and dissolved, vanishing without a trace. Shadows crowded the window, the glass became a mess of ghostly eyes.

From that spot, a flicker of light appeared. The shadows stirred. The light began to spin in slow circles around itself, merging into a different shape. Two tiny wings, two black eyes, two ear-like horns, and a wispy tail: all white.

A cloud crossed the sky, the shadows raced out to the street, all light was shut off. The glimmer of light squeaked and took off running, but it was far too late. The darkness grabbed ahold of it, just like the night with the sun. The shade washed over the light, smudging it from existence.

And just like that, the world got a little bit darker.

 

It was night again. The stars flickered with the passing planes. The darkness clogged the streets, street lamps flickered under the pressure of the night. Humans have a strange tendency to come out at night. The dark always latches onto them and guides them to walk under the stars, to marvel in the music of the night, to find beauty in the glitter we call the sky. People bustled along the streets, heading home, or heading out, or perhaps just going nowhere. The darkness hides them well. They can’t remember the faces they walk by. That’s because they can’t see them. People vanish off the edges of the sidewalks. They go inside of houses, stores, offices, alleyways; they leave the outdoors, they hide from the encroaching dark, they are taken from their paths to go elsewhere.

Humans continued to muse their dark thoughts. Shadows rose around them, devouring their lights, sheltering them from the glares of the florescent lights. One human strolled down the street, their eyes focused on the sky above them, marvelling at the shapes and swirls in the sky. They stopped at a park bench and sat down. The street lamp above them flickered on. Above them hovered a Figment. A white creature, black eyes wide and staring at the night sky. Its human crossed her legs and set her hands neatly on her lap. The flicker of light settled on her shoulder, small head nuzzling her ear. She couldn’t feel it. She pulled a small comb out of her bag and brushed her hair, she seemed to be waiting for something. Another flicker of light appeared above her head, as she smiled at a heart warming thought. Her mind wandered away from reality.

All around her was light, the lamp above her had flickered, yet she glowed like a star. White shapes fluttered around her, cuddling the tassels on her scarf, weaving through the strands of her smooth hair, winding around her face. The passerby stared at her as they walked by, she was mesmerizing. Soon, the sound of bus brakes caught her attention. The white Figments clustered around her and stared at the approaching vehicle. The bus stopped in front of the bus stop where the human woman sat; it opened its doors, sending a flood of light upon her face. The light bathed her body as she stepped onto the bus and handed her bus pass to the conductor. The conductor scanned the pass and waved the lady down the aisle. She smiled warmly and climbed into the second row and seated herself. As she brushed past the conductor, a small flicker of light passed between them. The man had seen her smile and his mood had brightened.

She leaned against the window and continued her gaze at the night sky. Her glow was not physical, the seat in front of her did not reflect the light she radiated, her reflection was not sharpened, and yet the shadows ran from her. They hid between the seats, cowering, yet watching with wide, white eyes. Three other humans occupied the bus, they exchanged no words. Their darkened forms rocked to the rolling of the bus; yet they could not help but stare at the woman now seated among them.

The brakes hissed and the bus came to a stop in front of another lonely bus stop. The single street lamp flickered in the dim fog shining down on a bench made of moldering wood barely held together by steel braces and plant vines. Two of the four passengers rose from their seats and filed out of the door. They each went their separate ways and walked between the bustling street and the silent, looming houses. One could say . . . their shadows had disappeared. The bus continued driving. Buildings rushed by, the noise of passing cars filtered through the windows.

The woman lifted her head from the glass and stared ahead, the streets had begun to seem familiar to her. She watched as the bus pulled up to another stop. When the bus stopped and the conductor announced departure, the woman stood up and got off. Her aura seemed to light the night air, to repel the darkness like a force field. The shadows retreated from her steps as she walked down the street. The bus behind her hissed and started up again.

The clouds of steam from the exhaust pipes cast strange looking shapes on the cement. The woman continued on her path, purpose outlined her footsteps and her glow still shining.

The darkness leached into the light of the stars, the clouds had begun to gather. Even the moon had trouble piercing the roiling darkness. A shadow had begun to approach the woman. And so had her house. She stopped short, several feet away from her front door. Beside her porch was her mailbox.

The darkness was packed inside every envelope that stuck out of the edges of the steel box had deep shadows along every crease, every fold, every letter. She slung her purse on her shoulder and opened the mailbox. Reaching inside, she pulled out several envelopes, each with bright red stamps labeling their urgency. The darkness clung to the letters, sapping from the paper and onto the woman’s hands. A long shadow was cast behind her. It’s white eyes blinked over her shoulder at the letters she now unfolded and read. The lights around her had dimmed. The white Figments of hope had begun to disintegrate. The shadow had enveloped the woman’s body with it’s great wings.

She sighed and dropped the letters on the table. The papers were typed, they held words of debt, heavy debt to the government, to her bank, to her parents. She loosened her scarf and hung her coat in the small, shabby closet. The darkness had broken the light bulb, it now hung uselessly from the ceiling. The chain hung down, also useless.

The woman walked down the short hall and only two paces down was she met with an old oak door. The knob was worn from years of use and the hinges had begun to rust. She opened it, and it swung in, oddly silent. Inside, the room was lit by several small candles. They sat atop piles of discarded books that leaned against the wall, on the shelves full of tools used for wood carving. In the middle of the room, lying on top of a rickety old bed, was a small boy. Next to him purred a soft white cat curled around his left arm. He turned as the door opened, “Mom!”

“Hello, sorry I’m home late.”

“It’s okay. Cassy here was good company.” The cat meowed as its name was called. The woman smiled and sat on the bed, “I see you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” the little boy held up a wooden figure, freshly carved from the soft wood of the maple tree in the front yard, “I’m going to call her Hope. Because she looks happy and she can bring us good luck!”

The woman laughed. The shadows around the room flickered, the candles had somehow become brighter. The little boy lifted himself off of the plush blankets and pulled himself up next to his mother, “You can put her on your desk at work, I’m sure it will work this time.”

“Thanks sweetie.” the lady took the small figure and held it gingerly. The little boy sat up, his bright eyes worried, “The letters came again, didn’t they?”

The shadows under her eyes deepened as her smile faded. Small flickers of darkness had appeared in her eyes. Suddenly a pair of small, warm hands grasped hers. She blinked, a little startled. Her son’s gaze seemed to pierce the cloud of despair that surrounded her. His light was brighter than hers will ever be. The shadows retreated at his touch, his sharp blue eyes drove the darkness from her eyes, “Mom?”

His voice was soft and gentle, yet the night air seemed to shiver under his gaze. The woman smiled and set her son’s hands on the bed, “I’m alright. Now you need to get some sleep.”

“Okay!” the little boy jumped under the covers and slapped his face onto the pillow. The woman smiled, “Good night.”

“Gnift.” came the muffled reply. The child’s mother smiled one last time and gently blew out the candles before leaving the room. Silence; the window let in a steady stream of moonlight.

A soft hiss echoed in the tiny room. The little boy rose from his bed. The blankets fell away from him as if eager to release their burden. His small feet were silent on the carpeted floor, brushing against the fabric.

He was walking towards a door. It was small, insignificant. Inside was a simple sink, loo, and a wide, wall-size mirror. The boy ran a hand through his hair and raised his head to look into the mirror. The darkness behind him was thick. It loomed over his shoulder, as it always had, its white eyes staring at him.

Humans aren’t supposed to understand what shadows are made of. Many humans don’t know that shadows are just Figments of light. They reflect what we most hate, fear, loathe, envy, want . . . what we take from others. Humans can’t seem to understand that.

The little boy walked up to the sink and splashed some cold water into his face. Now that his mother had gone to bed with hope in her heart, he could pull off the facade he always wore. The darkness around him surged inwards. The shadows grasped at his body, fluttered around him, flicking his skin with their tiny wings.

He lifted his head and gazed into the mirror once more. The shadow over his shoulder laid its clawed foot on his arm; it’s white eyes were fixed on the mirror’s surface.

 

And he, without a doubt, stared back.

And he could see it.

 

The end

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know what this is, if someone knows please tell me.


End file.
